Snow Globe
by MyLittleYellowBird
Summary: It's just turned Christmas Eve, and Patrick returns home from a late call, eager to share a winter wonderland with Shelagh.


The snow crunched loudly underfoot as the solitary man made his way home. Under the dim light of the street lamps, snowflakes swirled in the air around him, buffeted by the light breeze. The pavement was blanketed with snow, its hard cobbles disguised and tree branches swayed heavily, as if wrapped with layers of cotton wool.

Dr. Patrick Turner looked up at the sky and smiled. He loved the snow. They didn't see it often in London, but for a short time it changed everything. The worn edges of battered buildings were softened and even the last of wartime rubble was disguised. In the snowy moonlight, Poplar was a winter wonderland.

Patrick laughed to himself and shook his head. "Better not let Tim hear me say that!"

He wondered if a year or two ago he would have felt the same about the cold stuff.

Probably not, he admitted.

Inclement weather would have been one more inconvenience to deal with; misplaced gloves and forgotten boots certainly would have made for a more uncomfortable experience.

He had Shelagh this year, though, and the boots were remembered, the gloves found. He was certainly grateful for the extra clothing now. Baby Hayes had decided to take his time tonight, despite all of Sister Winifred's efforts to coax him along. By the time they were all done and dusted, nearly three inches of the white stuff had settled on Poplar.

Having made sure of the young nun's safe arrival home, Patrick had made his careful way back to his family. Hopefully there would be no more calls tonight, and then two days at home to enjoy.

He glanced down at his watch, knowing what he would see. Just past midnight. He grinned. It was Christmas Eve.

Shelagh Turner, surrounded by the detritus of an evening spent wrapping Christmas gifts, cast a satisfied look upon the results. She couldn't remember ever taking part in such a generous display. A childhood spent with a detached father, followed by years in the Order had accustomed her to a far more Spartan holiday.

Last year had been...She paused for a moment, remembering the hectic preparations for both the holiday and her marriage to Patrick. But last year, Christmas had not gone according to plan, and was doled out slowly over weeks as Timothy recovered.

This time, Shelagh was determined to make Christmas a time to remember for happier reasons. Every possible tradition was to be honored: a lovely Christmas tree, paper chains, baking, singing, to say nothing of the shopping!

The children were long in bed, Angela settled after her last bottle and Tim feigning exhaustion for fear that his mother would put him to work. Shelagh half-suspected that Patrick had arranged to be called out in order to avoid the gift wrapping they had left for tonight.

She stretched, then began to clear up. The click of the front door alerted her to her husband's return, and she rose to meet him in the hall. Unbuttoning his coat, Patrick smiled as he stood under his own favorite tradition, and waited for her mistletoe kiss.

"Oh, for heavens sake, you look like a snowman, Patrick! Is it snowing so very hard? I had no idea!" Shelagh laughed. The draperies, drawn to keep out the cold, had revealed nothing.

Patrick placed his medical bag next to the hat rack. "There must be three inches already. You should see it, Shelagh. It's wonderful!"

"I'll take a peek out the window. Now let's get these things off you before you melt all over the carpet."

He stepped closer, pressing his cold cheek to her warm, soft one. "Come outside with me, Shelagh. Just for a moment," he whispered in her ear. "The children will be fine. We'll just be downstairs."

Shelagh looked up, skeptical. "Patrick, it's late. It's just a little snow."

Patrick pulled her gently along the hallway. "Come on, sweetheart. We've never seen snow together. Last year was so mild. Please?" He smiled the lopsided grin he knew she found difficult to resist. "Put Tim's boots on, they're right here." He tilted his head to the side, cajoling, "Just a quick dash."

There was a childish joy in his eyes she found contagious. Rolling her eyes Heavenward, Shelagh decided to humor him. "All right, then. Just a quick moment."

Quickly wrapped in her coat and wearing Timothy's already too-large boots, she took her husband's extended hand and followed him down the stairs. At the door, Patrick leaned in close and whispered, "Close your eyes."

"Patrick, it's late-"

"Shelagh, close your eyes."

She pressed her lips together, trying to hide her smile as her eyelids fluttered shut. Patrick squeezed her hand, guiding her out and down the step. A few paces more and he turned her around. "Now open them."

Shelagh did not expect the scene before her eyes. Her breath caught and she turned to seek his eyes. "Patrick," she whispered in wonder. "It's wonderful!"

Her look swept the courtyard, glistening in the layers of snow. Standing now at the center of the courtyard, they were surrounded by castles of snow, windows winking with frosty glass. The midnight sky, flecked by pinpoints of starlight, created a dome above them. "It's like we're in a snow globe of our very own," she said in an awed whisper.

She turned back to her husband, and he took in the snowflakes in her hair, her cheeks glowing pink. His cold hands slipped up to her warm neck and he bent to kiss her forehead.

"It's Christmas Eve, sweetheart."

"Yes." Tiny clouds of breath mingled.

"Last year, we should have...So much has happened, Shelagh, since last Christmas Eve. I'm the luckiest man in earth." His nose nudged hers and his lips moved to caress her cheek.

A laugh escaped her throat. "Then we certainly belong together, dearest, because I must be the luckiest woman alive." His open jacket was an invitation for her to slide her hands around his back and press herself against him. Their lips found each other, and the snow, the starlight, everything was forgotten as they shared their love.

"Happy Christmas, Patrick," she murmured, her smile content.

"Happy Christmas, darling."

For precious moments they stood there, two lovers in a special world of their own, certain in the joy of Christmas.


End file.
